


It's a fine romance but its left me so undone

by KeepGoing



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bottom!Ian, Dom/sub Undertones, Ian gets his meds adjusted, Ian is having trouble getting hard with his new meds, M/M, Manic Episode, Married Life, Mickey doesnt want to take advantage, Mickey helps Ian get his groove back, Mickey takes care of Ian, Mickey worries, Post manic episode, Smut, Tattoo Artist Mickey, Top!Mickey, fluff too, please read the notes for possible triggers, rough sex but with passion and love, sex after 2 months, sometimes ian needs it too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:55:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24047782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing
Summary: He's sitting up in bed when you get home a little after ten; your wrist and fingers killing you. He gives you a warm smile and goes back to Tetris on his phone. It calms him. Hey, whatever gets ya through it. You strip down to your t-shirt and boxers and sit beside him on the bed, lighting a cigarette. You Are both quiet for a while; just enjoying the presence of one another. He finally throws his phone down on the bed and groans."I am so fucking horny."You laugh, like really fucking laugh for the first time in 2 months. "Is that so?""Yeah, but…" he gestures toward his crotch. "Nothing."
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 14
Kudos: 270





	It's a fine romance but its left me so undone

**Author's Note:**

> This fic took me 4 months to write because I was so afraid of offending someone or triggering someone. I in no way shape or form condone taking advantage of someone when they are mentally ill. I put a lot of thought and time into making this fic perfect and showing how much Mickey just really wants to take care of Ian. Ian is not manic or depressive when they have sex. Its 2 months after his episode and even though Ian is having trouble getting it up because of his meds, does not mean he doesn't want to have sex with his husband. And Mickey is very careful to make sure that is the case. That being said, Mickey does top in this fic and it does have SOME dom/sub undertones but only for the sake of role play in the bedroom. 
> 
> So that's the warning. I still hope you read it. This fic means a lot to me.
> 
> As always, comments are LOVE.

He had to have his meds adjusted again. It had been a while; Ian lasted  nearly 3 years this go round; but when the not sleeping started up again and you woke up to his side of the bed cold at 5 AM you knew something was up. 

  
You worried when he would spend all night out because the last time...no it was different this time. You were married and you knew…. well hoped Ian felt that meant something different than last time. The night you found him lying in the snow with no coat on in front of your old house; a place you both swore you'd never return to even after Terry ended up back in prison; you knew you couldn't ignore it like last time. 

  
He giggled the entire way back home, even after stuffing him in Debbie's car, and babbled on for the 20-minute drive about John F Kennedy and ' _like have you ever really thought about how they make cheese, Mick?'_ His eyes flashed with hurt and pleading when the familiar sign came into view. 

"It's just to get new meds, Ian.  I'm not leaving  ya here. You hear me?"

  
He nodded and was tight but staggering against your body when you got him out of the car and inside the warm hospital walls. You had forgotten to grab his coat in the chaos of it all and it made you feel like a piece of shit. 

  
That was over 7 weeks ago. He was better now. Sleeping less; well less than the 16 hours he was when they flipped the scripts, and he was eating. That's really all you could ask for. You were finally able to go back to work after week 3; Nick at the tattoo place being the most understanding fucker ever by rescheduling all your appointments. 

  
He's sitting up in bed when you get home a little after ten; your wrist and fingers killing you. He gives you a warm smile and goes back to Tetris on his phone. It calms him. Hey, whatever gets ya through it. You strip down to your t-shirt and boxers and sit beside him on the bed, lighting a cigarette. You Are both quiet for a while; just enjoying the presence of one another. He finally throws his phone down on the bed and groans. 

  
"I am so fucking horny."

  
You laugh, like really fucking laugh for the first time in 2 months. "Is that so?"

  
"Yeah, but…" he gestures toward his crotch. "Nothing."

  
"Ian, it's fine. It takes time. I'm not going anywhere." You take the hand that's lying on his lap and intertwine your fingers together. He smiles gently. 

  
"But I want you." He whispers. He's giving you that look and you feel your skin prickle with want. It's been almost 2 months. There's just so much pleasure a hand job given by yourself can satisfy. You lick your bottom lip. 

  
"Hey, I'll never say no to a blowjob."

  
He practically groans in lust and his eyes flutter shut. "Tempting. But I have something else in mind."

  
"A little ass eating? I'm down for that too." 

  
He gives you one of those smiles; the kind that lights up an entire room and it's been so long since you've seen it that it practically makes your chest ache. 

  
He takes your hand that he's holding and starts massaging your fingers. It's your tattooing hand and he knows it, and you groan at the pressure and the own artwork he's making by massaging it. He does it for a few minutes and gradually stills looking at you with the look he gives when he wants to tell you something but is nervous about it. 

  
"Spit it out, fire crotch. Dildo? Beads? Vibrator? Nipple clamps? What? You got my attention." You shift your eyes down to your own crotch that's sporting major wood in your boxers. 

  
He turns your hand over and runs his fingertips over the calluses that never seem to go away. You sigh at the gentleness and it'sdefinitely not helping your hard on. He finally brings your hand up from his lap and puts it against his neck. You furrow your brow at him and when he opens your fingers and forcibly wraps them around his long neck, it clicks in your skull. 

  
"Oh."

  
He nods and takes his hand away but you leave your hand there and squeeze a little. He lets out a filthy wine and your dick throbs. 

  
"Fuck me." He chokes out. 

  
Fuck. Yes.

  
The thing about Ian is that he's one aggressive top. He fucks and manhandles and marks and bites and sucks and rams and thrusts and chokes and destroys with everything he has. And you take. And love it. But sometimes, and it's rare, he wants to be on the receiving end of that kind of power. He wants to give up control and have you take him. Fuck him. It usually happens when he's in one of his depressive states but it's been a while. You like being fucked. And you're fine with that. 

  
But the idea of being inside him right now; to feel him, take him, touch him; is everything you need right now. And so, does he. 

  
"You sure?" You ask because he's your fucking husband and he's coming down from a pretty bad manic episode and you're not that much of an asshole. He nods again and shifts away, your hand falling back to your own lap, as he scoots himself back to lie on the bed. His knees are bent because you're still sitting and he looks uncomfortable as fuck but your heart is racing and your dick could cut diamonds and fuck how is his ginger ass so god damn beautiful?

  
You stand, pulling your shirt over your head throwing it who the fuck cares and his eyes darken as his eyes fall and skim over your bare torso. He spreads his legs now that he can and you can see he's still not hard through his boxers but the skin on his neck is flushed and he's licking his lower lip and you stop feeling guilty. Your boxers are pushed down in one fluid motion and you kick them wherever your shirt landed and lock blue with green.

  
"Take your clothes off."

  
His eyes widen slightly at your assertiveness. He's naked in a manner of seconds, and you lick your bottom lip at the sight of his pale freckled lean skin. You love his cock. You love how big it is, how long and wide. You love how red it gets when he's ready to shove it in any hole you’re willing to give him, which is all of them, but the thing you love most about his sex, is his balls. They are fucking perfect. Perfectly shaped and round and soft and you spend hours sometimes with your mouth around them. And right now, no Ian’s not hard, but his balls look so fucking inviting just hanging there, resting against white skin. 

  
He catches you looking at them and reaches his long fingers down to roll his sac between them. Your eyes immediately flick back up to his face. “Don't fucking touch yourself unless I tell you to.”

  
He swallows hard and slowly pulls his hand away.

  
He usually plays this game with you and fuck is he good at it. The dominant. The enforcer. The aggressive top. But tonight, is your turn. Because he needs it. And who are you to deny your husband, fuck he's your husband, anything.

  
You walk to the side of the bed, your dick ready and willing to play, and he eyes it quickly before looking back up at you.

  
“Suck it.”

  
He practically lunges toward you but you grab his chin before his mouth can reach your dick. “Keep your eyes on me. Look at me. Don't close those eyes. You hear me?”

  
“Yes,” he whispers. You squeeze his chin harder when he tries to move closer and he winces but never takes his eyes off you.

  
“Yes, WHAT?”

  
“Yes, sir.” 

  
“Damn straight.” You let go of him and he opens his mouth wide. He waits. He's waiting like the good soldier he is. He keeps his stare on you, mouth hanging open, spit already forming at the sides of his mouth. You take your cock in your hand at the base and feed it into his willing mouth. It’s hot and so fucking wet and you throw your head back in a loud groan as his lips wrap around it. 

  
“That's it. Good boy. Get it nice and wet.” You pet his head as he slides his mouth up and down your dick. Fuck he’s beautiful. You grip the hair that is in desperate need of a cut, but in this moment thank whatever kind of Gods may be out there that he hasn't gotten it cut yet. He reaches out to take your balls in his hand, never leaving your eyes, and you smack his hand away. 

  
“Did I say you could do that?”

  
He shakes his head, taking your dick with him in between his lips. 

  
You growl; where the fuck did that come from? You grab the sides of his head. “Open. Wide.”

  
He does and you slam your cock so far into his mouth he gags. He sputters, loud breathing sounds escaping his nose. You ease back but when he looks up at you with those pleading eyes you know it's not because it's too much. It's because he wants more.

  
You slam in again, your hips gaining a perfect rhythm as you face fuck him. He moans around your cock, the vibrations going up your spine and you forgot for a second when you started this how good he is at this and pull out of him with a back thrust. He almost falls off the bed as he chases it, but rights himself, falling back on to his ankles and lays his hands on his knees. His lips are swollen and his eyes watery but fuck if he hasn’t taken his eyes off yours. 

  
“Good boy.”

  
He preens and you lean down to finally kiss him. He sighs into it; the kiss tender and slow after the brutal beating his mouth just got. His tongue tastes like you and if this was old Mickey you would have been disgusted. But you haven't been that Mickey in a long time. You pull back and reach over to the nightstand and pull open the drawer. You eye the contents, taking out the lube and throwing it onto the bed. You continue to look inside. “Do you need to be restrained?”

  
His chest is heaving, his mouth parted slightly. You raise your eyebrows at him, waiting for his answer. 

  
“If you want, sir.”

  
“Are you going to be able to keep your hands to yourself until I tell you to?”

  
He nods vigorously. Okay, so no handcuffs tonight. He has limits. There are always going to be things you like that he doesn't. You personally fucking love the handcuffs. But you're a power bottom who gets off on being controlled in every aspect. Ian, is new to this. Baby steps.

  
You shut the drawer and motion to the lube on the mattress. “Open yourself up. I wanna watch.”

  
You swear you see his dick jump just a bit at that, and maybe it did. But you're trying so hard not to focus on that right now. He feels for it, not taking his eyes off you like he told you he wouldn't, and grabs it lying back on the bed. He lubes up 3 fingers and you almost laugh at his eagerness and watch as he lifts his legs up and bends them at the knees. He traces his finger over his hole it winking and clenching at the new feeling. Your cock is leaking all over the floor; stringy lines of precum just pouring out of the head. He's still looking at you dead in the eyes and when his fingertip pushes inside himself, his pupils dilate and you can tell he wants to close his eyes. He wants to throw his head back. But he's being so good. Fuck, how is he so good?

  
He blinks more than normal, trying to get some relief from the constant stare and when the second finger joins the first, he whimpers and you see the muscles in his thighs begin to shake. You reach your hand out to hold him in place. He sighs at the favor, and works 2 fingers into himself like he does with you. Strong, long thrusts and you almost don't notice because you're so focused on him fingering himself that he's got a half chub going on. You don't bring attention to it; barely glancing at it because you're afraid you will scare it away. But he's enjoying himself, just as much as you and you wonder if maybe youdon't need to be so in control tonight like he wants you to be. You could just make love to him. Be thankful he's better and that he's here and he loves you and you love him. 

  
But when that third finger enters his ass he wails and pants and a thin sheen of sweat starts to form on his naked body and his eyes glaze over with need. 

  
“Fuck me.” He pleads. “Sir, please fuck me. Make me take your cock like a good boy.”

  
Yeah, okay no. No making love tonight. Fuck that. You can do that in the morning or some shit. 

  


Or never. What the fuck ever. 

  
You drop his knee you've been holding and he lowers his legs to the bed, spreading them out as an invitation. You can't seem to catch your breath. Your chest is heaving and you're practically vibrating with anticipation and just simple want. You still don't understand how he's yours. How you get to be with him. You don't deserve him. Or any of this. The job, the stability...him. None of it makes any sense. 

  
But you've learned to enjoy every second. Even the bad ones. Marriage hasn't been all the good times, health, and the richer times. But when the dust clears and you see them slowly coming into view after the darkness has subsided, you're grateful. And you're grateful for him. Every second. Even when you aren't sure you can make it through another moment of pain. And here he is laid out before you begging you with his body and his heart to feel you. Because it's been months and you've been patient and he's taken care of himself, getting himself healthy again, and you're his husband and he wants to feel you. 

  
"Ian," breaking out of your dominant role for a moment. "We can wait. If you're…"

  
"Mick, listen to me. I'm ok. I'm balanced. I'm working. Eating. Sleeping. It's just the meds making my dick soft. You know it's just a side effect. It's been almost 6 weeks. I'm ok." He smiles and it's his smile. Not his manic smile that always reminds you of the joker. Or his depressive smile that you can tell pains him to muster. No this is his smile. You're smile. Just radiance and his soul coming out. You relax. He senses you're worried. Boundaries and consent and all the things he didn't give you all those years ago when you were just starting to wade through the waters of his disorder. He’s okay. You're okay. This is okay. You smile at him and he bites his lower lip as his hand travels slowly down his bare stomach. You watch the muscles clench and the time for worrying is over. 

  
Now it's time to fuck. 

  
You kneel on the bed, your knees against his and run your fingertips slowly down his cheek to his neck, over the straining veins as he moans at your touches. You rub his nipple in between your fingers and pinch it probably harder than you should but he arches off the bed and you watch his cock jerk a little to life. Meds your ass. He just needed you. 

  
You slide your hand back up to his neck and he juts out his chin giving you all access to the pale skin. "Who do you belong to?" You ask with a tone in your voice even you barely recognize. He licks his lips and whimpers. 

  
"You, sir." He wraps his legs around your lower body, your leaking cock sliding down over his half mast, over his balls and your tip gets stuck on the rim of his slick entrance. 

  
You lean down and ghost your mouth over his. "You knew you were gonna get fucked tonight, huh? Knew my cock needed to be buried in your greedy little hole? Ready for me to just slide right in?" You move your hips just enough so the tip of your cock nudges his hole. He moans, throwing his head back. You squeeze your fingers lightly against his neck. He’salmost fully hard now. 

  
"Yes, sir." He groans out. You push slowly inside him and his body trembles at the intrusion. You watch his face for any signs of pain or regret. You find none. You push more of your thick cock into him, a little every 30 seconds. His eyes are fluttering with pleasure and his ass is like a vice around you and it taking everything in you not to blow your load right then. There's enough lube in his ass to grease a fighter plane engine but you still wonder if you should have used some of your own on your dick. You like the pain and the friction but that doesn't mean Ian does. 

  
When you finally bottom out, your balls against his radiating skin, he's writhing under you. "Good boy." You whisper. He smiles a blissed out smile at you, his eyes closed. You stay bottomed out inside him, his hole clenching around you. Fuck he feels amazing. Hot and wet and deep. You like being fucked but you also like your dick in a hole once in a while. You're only human. But Ian's is the only hole you want. All you ever wanted. 

  
You shift up grab his legs behind his knees and start to pull out. He whines. "Needy boy." You slam back in and he arches off the bed and his beautiful, long, monster of a cock springs to life in all its glory. 

  
"There he is. That's my good boy."

  
He smiles, that Ian fucked out smile and you start to fuck him. You pound his ass and you're leaving half-moon marks on the skin around his knees from your short nails and he meets every thrust you give him. The room is filled with slaps of skin and grunts and tiny whines from his throat. His skin is flushed with a pornographic pink and you're dripping sweat onto his already slick skin. He’s keeping his hands above his head, white knuckling the already cracked wood of the headboard. 

  
"Eyes on me." You growl at him and his eyes spring open, wide, so green with lust. Fuck he's so god damn beautiful. So, you tell him and they glaze over with emotion. Love. 

  
He taps your arm, asking permission. For what you don't know. But he's following orders so well. You raise an eye brow at him and stop your thrusts. 

  
"Can I ride you, sir?"

  
You moan, fuck you can't help it. How is he even real?

  
You pull out and plop down on the bed next to him. When he maneuvers over you, you slide over to the middle of the bed and lean yourself up against the headboard. He wants to ride you? You're not gonna miss one second of that. 

  
He’s back on your cock in seconds, ass to the grind and fuck you can feel everything inside him.He’sgonna have bruises on his hips but hedoesn't seem to mind the force of your hands on him.He’s relentless above you. Fingers gripping at the skin on your chest where his misspelled nameis forever imprinted on you. His ragged breathing fills thehot air and you just keep cursing over and over as he uses your dick likesome kind of kinky ride. His dick is jumping in the air in front of you. Slapping against his stomach with every bounce andyou're not sureit's ever looked so big. It looks massive; 9 inches not doing it justice.Maybe it's just been too long sinceyou've seen it. Who the fuck knows or cares?

  
The whole dominance thing you were supposed to be asserting over him has seemed to have gone to the wayside because even as a bottom, Ian can't help but act like a top. But you came to conquer tonight, and you won'tbe outdone. You grab his neck and bring his face down to you. He grunts and swallows against your fingers. 

  
"Who do you belong to?" You ask again, lifting your hips and slamming into his open and sloppy hole. 

  
"You," he chokes out. 

  
"Again." You're fucking him so hard he can barely keep his eyes open and body from crumpling down on top of you. 

  
"You, sir."

  
"Who?" You growl and squeeze his neck a little tighter. 

  
"You, Mickey!" He screams. 

  
"Fuck yeah, you do. Now cum." You slam one more time up into him, as deep as you can get and you feel his release before you hear the wail that escapes his contracted throat. It hits your chest and his and even your chin and you feel so elated, so turned on that you got him to that point that your own orgasm sneaks up on you and you don't even realize it until that warm ecstasy feeling punches you in the balls. 

  
He falls on top of you and you wrap your whole body around him protectively. You're worried almost instantly that it was too much. You went too far. But after a few minutes of heavy breathing, soft kisses into his hair and warm caresses down his back, he stirs back to life. He settles his chin on your chest and looks at you with lazy eyes. 

  
"I need pizza." He murmurs. 

  
You laugh and pinch his side and he giggles loudly. You kiss him; his lips soft and pliant against yours. He’s buzzing with post orgasmic energy and nuzzling against every inch of skin he can reach on you. 

  
"You okay?" You whisper. 

  
"Mmm." He kisses his name of your chest. "Will you give me a tattoo?"

  
"Yeah, course. What do you want?"

"Hmm. Your name? Only seems fair. You can even spell it wrong. M-I-K-E-Y." He smirks at you and you pinch him again. 

"Yeah, okay funny guy. How about on your ass?"

"You could. Or on my dick."

" Man, that shit hurts." You shake your head. 

"Yeah, I  wouldn't be able to fuck you for a while. Bad idea. Guess  it'll have to be on my chest then." He kisses the tattoo again. 

"You serious?" You look into his eyes and he nods.  Your  chest tightens and you rub your thumb against his freckled cheek. "I love you."

He closes his eyes and sighs, a small smile on his lips. "Sickness and health."

"Damn straight, Gallagher."

You hold him tighter and figure another 10 minutes  won't kill him before you cook him his frozen pizza. Richer or poorer, right?


End file.
